


A Cathartic Release In Hell

by Laure Alexander (ladyoneill)



Series: A Series In Hell [7]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Bondage, Consensual Violence, F/M, Rough Sex, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 02:57:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2491910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/Laure%20Alexander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A couple months have passed since Buffy and Angelus reunited after her year as Lucifer's consort, and they've stopped talking and stopped making love.  Buffy does what she has to in order to make things better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cathartic Release In Hell

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read any of the series, all you have to know is that Acathla sucked both Buffy and Angelus into Hell where, his demon sated, he was able to love her. They've been together for forty years, becoming a power couple, but Buffy's always intrigued Lucifer (based somewhat on Gaiman and Carey's comic book versions) and she's wanted him as well, so for a year before this story she was his consort. In my 2012 IWRY Marathon fic, she and Angelus reunited, but it could never be that simple. They are all stand alone stories if you know the basic background.
> 
> This story has consensual bondage, beating, and rough sex. It's Buffy's decision to go this route, and the little bit of demon in her, likes it.

Nearly two months had passed since Angelus and Buffy reunited and returned to their estate and, to her, it was becoming obvious that things weren't right between them. The first week or so had been a passionate, loving reunion during which they rarely left their bed. After that, they fell into old, comfortable patterns. Their friends and allies gave them a one month honeymoon before invitations to parties and dinners started to pour in and they began to socialize again. The night before, they held their first musical soiree during which good wine and food was consumed, pleasant piano music was enjoyed, politics were discussed, and alliances were strengthened.

And, as had been happening too often since that first week of bliss, they slept in the same bed but didn't touch.

Buffy knew what was wrong--they hadn't talked at all about her year with Lucifer. Angelus seemed to want to ignore it had happened and, at first, she was relieved, but there was was a growing tension between them, a lack of talking about pretty much anything outside the trivial, and they hadn't made love in nine days.

They needed to talk, even if it led to screaming and fighting. Angelus claimed to forgive her--and, that first night, she'd latched onto that, believing it completely--but Buffy still couldn't forgive herself for giving in so easily, for not fighting for herself. How could her demon lover? She knew he was jealous of Lucifer--the few times his name was mentioned by her, he turned cold and walked away--and she hadn't pushed it. Although she desperately wanted to get it all off her chest, she also didn't want to hurt Angelus even more.

But, they couldn't go on like this.

For just over three hours Angelus had been out riding. She'd seen his horse the last few times he'd done so, sweat-soaked and blown from galloping for hours. He was taking his frustration out on those rides while Buffy took her own out on practice dummy after practice dummy.

None of that was working for either of them. If they didn't confront this, it was going to blow up spectacularly. During the year she'd been Lucifer's consort, Angelus had slaughtered their people and conquered a hundred miles of territory. What would they both do in their separate anger and despair?

*****

Windblown and flushed from his ride, but not satisfied or relaxed at all, Angelus strode into the bedroom, stripping off his riding gloves, and came to a stuttering halt.

Chained to the posts at the foot of their bed, Buffy stood naked, arms and legs spread, head bowed. Her hair was up in a tight knot and her skin was dotted with goosebumps. It was cool in the room, the curtains drawn, the only light from the bedside lamps.

His first thought was 'what the Hell?' But, he held his tongue and watched her lift her head but not look back. She knew he was there and was waiting.

Was willing.

He could do anything he wanted to her.

A shiver of dark desire went through him and he slid his jacket off, carelessly dropping it with the gloves on the floor. As his eyes roamed her slender nudity, arousal unfurled in him, but if it was just sex she wanted, Buffy would have simply been in their bed.

No, she wanted--needed--more.

He needed more.

They hadn't talked about the year apart. It was too painful for him to even think about, let alone articulate his anger and pain and fear. Angelus had just buried all of that, but it stewed deep inside, coming out in his short temper, his long, brutal rides across their land, and his inability to touch her.

He wanted Buffy, loved her, but he...was angry with her.

Still unsure he could talk to her about how she'd made him feel, what her betrayal--because, after forty years together, that's what it was--made him feel, Angelus could do one thing.

Words were never the way they communicated best anyway.

His hands went to his belt, unfastened it, and slowly slid it through the loops of his riding breeches. Anticipation began to grow, mingling with the arousal, and as he let the belt dangle from one hand, he used the other to adjust the growing bulge pressing against the buttons of his breeches, before reaching up and unfastening his cravat and the top two buttons of his linen shirt. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, he walked across the room towards Buffy and watched her start to tremble, heard the clank of the chains as she shifted, smelled her nervousness.

And her desire.

She needed to be punished, but she needed to be fucked, too.

Angelus would give her what she needed.

Stopping a couple feet behind her and to the left, he wrapped the buckle end of the belt around his hand and let the rest of the leather dangle against his taut thigh. He knew the intimacy of leather on his own flesh very well, but he'd never beaten Buffy. In their bedroom games, she was the dominant partner, but this wasn't a game. 

They'd always been physical in their anger, hitting each other, yelling and screaming at each other, but this was different.

Angelus was angry, true, but this wasn't an argument devolved into physical brutality. This wasn't a game, a way to enliven sex.

This was punishment.

He was all too ready to mete it out.

Lifting his arm, Angelus swung the belt against the middle of Buffy's back with all his strength. With a gasp of pain, she swayed forward, causing the chains to clank and a tremor to sweep through her. A red mark, fading fast, too fast, formed on her back.

He quickly added another across her shoulders, then moved lower to her pert buttocks, which made her moan and twitch from foot to foot. When he raised the belt again, she jerked forward before it even fell.

Dark amusement filled him. "Three lashes and you're already flinching?" The next half dozen he concentrated on her bottom, turning it bright red and making Buffy cry out in pain, but she stopped flinching. She didn't sway back into them, either, but Angelus wasn't expecting that.

She needed to hurt and he needed her to hurt. While her demonic side was miniscule, it was as dark as his, and it craved pain and blood.

Before the marks could fade, Angelus stepped up to her and cruelly squeezed one buttock in his big hand, making her whimper and shudder. Leaning down, he murmured against her heated cheek, "Do you want to bleed?"

"Wh-whatever you need," Buffy stammered.

He stepped back, unwrapped and rewrapped the belt, and lashed the buckle across her ass, shoulders, back, until it slipped around and and the metal dug into her right breast. 

A shocked cry of pain burst from her and he could smell her tears...

And blood.

The buckle left ugly looking welts on her back, but her breast was bleeding. Drawn to the hot, rich scent, he moved closer and dipped down to lick the blood from the wound as she shook in pain.

"More?" he whispered as his tongue lapped across her hard nipple.

"Y-yes."

Reversing the belt again, Angelus resumed the beating, covering her back from shoulders to knees, making her cry and twitch and shake, until the marks stopped fading within minutes, and she was a mess of tears and bruises.

And, yet, he could smell her arousal.

Buffy wasn't a masochist, but she was enough of a demon to be turned on by pain, and Angelus, well he was hard as a rock, aching to fuck her for hours.

Reaching up, he released her wrists from the manacles, noticing for the first time that they'd rubbed raw her skin. He suckled at the dots of blood before pushing her down on the bed and wrapping the leather belt around her wrists, knotting them together at the small of her back. Buffy twisted her head to the side and he saw that her swollen eyes were open and full of heat and tears. Still chained at the ankles, she squirmed and he smelled wet lust between her legs.

They'd discovered early on that the bed was at just the right height for him to fuck her from behind, but they'd never done it with her in chains. Noting that there was enough give to the manacles, he took her ass in his hands, ignoring her cry of pain, and pushed her higher on the bed until the chains pulled tight.

"Don't move." As he gave her the order, he circled the bed to grab a pillow, then shoved it beneath her stomach, before unfastening the buttons of his breeches and pushing them down far enough to free his cock. With one hand Angelus stroked himself, spreading pre-cum down the shaft, while with the other he traced some of the marks on her, making her whimper but not flinch away, even when he pressed his thumb down on one particularly dark red lash mark.

Finally, he slid that hand down the crease of her quivering buttocks to her dripping wet cleft and pushed three fingers into her.

"So wet...so greedy. You want this so badly, Buffy."

"Yes, please, fuck me," she groaned, wriggling onto his fingers until he used his free hand to grab the nape of her neck and hold her down.

Removing his fingers, he leaned over her and pushed them into her mouth, watching from languid eyes as she sucked them clean, moaning around them, even while the heat of her sore back burned through his thin shirt. After a minute, he pulled his fingers free and lifted up. Taking her hips in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over ugly welts that made her yelp and jerk in pain, he pressed the tip of his cock against her clit, then dragged it down, wetting it with her own lust, before pushing it into her.

Her tight muscles clenched around him, making him groan, and he thrust harder, deeper, until his pelvis smacked hard against her upturned ass. The heat, both inside and out, nearly burned him, but it was a glorious feeling, and Angelus let loose, fucking her hard and fast, making the chains shake and Buffy shake and moan and fuck him back.

"Angelus," she chanted over and over between whimpers and squeaks of pleasure and pain, and all he could do was grunt in reply and fuck her harder.

Her first orgasm crashed through her, making her vaginal muscles clench down hard enough to make him gasp and, for a moment, wonder if he'd get free, but then, as she collapsed in a limp, panting heap, they loosened and he resumed his thrusts, driving for his own pleasure. 

After several more minutes, just as Buffy began to squirm again and lift her hips as best she could to meet him, Angelus felt his balls tighten. Control slipping from him and making his thrusts erratic, he pulled out to paint her ass with his semen. Grabbing one of the bedposts, he leaned his forehead against it as well, panting unnecessarily as he shook from both a physical and emotional release.

Finally bringing himself under control, he fastened his breeches, then dropped to one knee to unfasten the cuffs. Gently he rubbed her quivering calf muscles, then let his hands slide up her bruised thighs before taking them and pulling her down the bed until her feet touched the floor, legs spread now by his shoulders. 

Lowering his head, Angelus dashed kissed across her ass, then lifted her to run his tongue around her swollen clit. He knew his hands holding her were hurting her, but only cries and moans of pleasure came from her as he quickly licked and sucked her to a second orgasm.

As she bucked against his mouth, he gave one last lick up along the cleft of her ass, before turning to sit with his back against the bed, wiping the stickiness from his chin and cheek and licking it from his lips.

A minute later, Buffy landed on her knees beside him, panting for air, red in the face, and yet...more relaxed and content looking than she'd been in two months. Noticing the wound on her breast had closed, he gently cupped it and leaned down to lick the tiny mark, before taking her mouth in a heated kiss. As she responded eagerly, he untied her wrists, and her arms went around his neck as she crawled onto his lap.

Breaking the kiss, he curled her against him, hands gentle on her back, and she clung to him, breathing into his neck.

"Are we...are we okay?" she finally asked.

Angelus took several minutes to answer, as he examined how he was feeling, until he realized that, yes, they were. The violence, the blood, the sex, were cathartic.

"Yes."

Feeling tears of relief against his skin, he brushed his lips over the top of her head and rocked her gently. 

*****

As she watched him sleep curled around her, Buffy knew they still needed to talk. In Hell, violence and pain could fix a lot of things, but Buffy was still human enough that she needed to talk through all she'd done, the mistakes she'd made, the pain she'd caused Angelus.

That talk would come soon enough, but, for now, she was content. The bruises and pain were fading, but they'd done the job.

They'd both found an emotional release they'd needed so that they could move on past the anger and frustration. Now, when they talked, she believed he could truly forgive her, and she could forgive herself. She knew there'd be yelling and anger still, but they'd get through it.

They'd be stronger for it.

Buffy knew Angelus truly loved her, as she loved him. That love had survived and, now, could only grow stronger.

End


End file.
